Vegemite
by Kilrez
Summary: You’re obviously not doing your job,’ Wilson told him in mock consternation. ‘Minions should be properly miserable at all times.’‘Maybe if I confiscate his Vegemite...’


**Vegimite**

Like all three members of House's team had suspected from time to time, but always dismissed as paranoid or ridiculous, he did actually have the diagnostics lounge bugged, so there was a sound feed in his office. It was unbelievably useful.

That morning they had finally gotten a fitting diagnosis on their patient. Right now though, nothing too interesting was happening, but he listened with half an ear as Chase talked on the phone whilst he leafed through online medical journals and waited for Cameron and Foreman to come back and present him with a surgical consent form and test results on the theory respectively. His gameboy was close by and turned on, so he could switch to it quickly in case any of them actually appeared.

'_Yeah, no,' _Chase was saying in the other room, his tone warmly amused. He was obviously fond of whoever was on the other end of the line. House was guessing it was a call from Australia, judging by the pauses interspersed between responses. Distracted momentarily by watching Chase smile through the glass, his attention snapped back as his office door opened.

Only Wilson, he was safe. 'Spying on your minions? Isn't that a little low?'

'Never. This omnipotent image takes work you know.'

Wilson smiled, shaking his head at his friend as Chase's voice quietly filtered through the room. House noted Cameron and Foreman approaching through the glass behind him and nodded towards them for Wilson's benefit, picking up the gameboy and closing the browser window. Chase spotted them too, glancing up, before a small smile curled around his lips.

'Yankie ho Darren. You up for it? … excellent.'

House cocked his head, intrigued. Wilson met his look, wondering what Chase was up to. They found out soon enough as Cameron and Foreman detoured in through the diagnostics lounge.

'Yeaahnah mate. Naah, she'll be right Dazza… yeaah, I'm sure. Look, get 'im blotto, and when 'ees flat out like a lizard drinkin', jes grab a marker… yeah, like Shazza did at Grand Final's night at the pub.' He laughed, ignoring the two young doctors who'd stopped dead to listen, staring at him like he'd grown another head. Wilson was smothering laughter himself, and House was blinking, faintly amused. Chase's accent had flattened out into broad, bogan Aussie, stretching every 'a' to breaking point.

As he listened to whatever 'Dazza's' reply was, he glanced up again, pretending to notice his two colleagues. After listening for a moment longer, he spoke again down the phone.

'Yeah no mate, sounds bonza. Gotta go though… 'kay, no worries. Speak to you later mate.' He ended the connection, and House reached under his desk to turn down the sound on the feed as Foreman and Cameron just shook their heads and continued into his office. Wilson had barely recovered, and he was biting hard on his bottom lip.

House made his features blank, looking expectantly at his two employees.

'Uh…' started Cameron, glancing over her shoulder distractedly as Chase entered behind her, his features innocent, although they became slightly suspicious when he noted Wilson's smirk. Rolling his eyes, House just held out one hand and beckoned slightly. Cameron handed over the form she was still clutching.

'Good minion. You going to live up to that Foreman, or am I going to have to pick favourites?'

'At least I can be sure of beating Kangaroo Jack over there,' Foreman replied, rasing an eyebrow at Chase. Chase returned the look mildly.

'Because I've wanted all my life to be House's favourite little lap dog,' he said sweetly, accent back to normal. House almost wanted to applaud. Wilson decided House's office needed a popcorn dispenser.

'Well obviously,' House told him, frowning in mock seriousness. 'Foreman. Results.'

Foreman eyed Chase in disgust before replying. 'All normal.'

'Excellent,' House commented in an Australian drawl, making Chase's eyes narrow suspiciously again. 'Go schedule the surgery. Scat.'

They filed out, not bothering by now to point out that it didn't need three of them to do it. They would spend the whole time bickering amiably about Chase's little lapse.

'Well,' started Wilson, watching them go.

'Well indeed. I didn't know he had a sense of humour.'

'It shocks me too,' concurred Wilson, grinning slightly in memory. Chase had the broad Australian accent down perfectly. He wondered why he didn't just fake an American one too. 'Although he has been in a very good mood recently,' pondered Wilson in continuation.

'I noticed. He actually _smiled_ this morning.'

'You're obviously not doing your job,' Wilson told him in mock consternation. 'Minions should be properly miserable at all times.'

'Maybe if I confiscate his Vegemite.'

'Vegemite?'

'You know- the foul brown spread he puts on his sandwiches? I think he gets it sent over by someone. Either that, or he's got a stockpile.'

Wilson shuddered. 'He actually tricked me into trying it one time now you mention it.'

'It's apparently made of salt and beer. The standard Australian fare, once meat pies are thrown in. Yummy,' he commented. Wilson made a face, just to compound his feelings on the subject. House grinned. 'Never be foolish enough to try anything anyone tells you is a delicacy in their country.'

'I'll remember that one.'

'Bonza,' replied House dryly.

The End.


End file.
